I’ve always loved the anonymity of big cities. I love the feeling of walking down the street with a hundred other people around and nobody giving a fuck about what you’re doing, whom you’re texting, where you’ve been or where you’re going.
Today I found myself on Leidseplein in Amsterdam, amongst a whole bunch of strangers, and I finally realized that I was feeling that again. There were people ice skating on one side of me, drunk tourists trying to pee in a box on the other, and nobody looked at me, or talked to me, and I didn’t have to look at or talk to them. It was so freeing.
Despite the fact that I’m completely alone in this city, with no anchor except a highly unsteady job, trying to swim against a heady current without anything to fall back on – that feeling of anonymity was exhilarating. Not terrifying. It was like I suddenly remembered that I was – well, that I was. It was me standing on that square.
I think with all the massive transitions and whirlwind of new experiences that have taken over my life at the moment, I forgot for a second that I still existed. I guess it’s time to rediscover myself again. And a city that allows me some anonymity is the perfect blank canvas.